


whelve

by stag_von_simp



Series: everything will glow for you [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (So Post Game), And Ferdinand is Tired, Bernie and Ferdie are Married!!, F/M, Fluff, Internal Turmoil, kind of angst???, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stag_von_simp/pseuds/stag_von_simp
Summary: prompt: whelve ~ to bury something deep, to hideOR: ferdinand just wants to ease bernie's mind, even if to do so is to blow his own skull to shrapnel.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Bernadetta von Varley
Series: everything will glow for you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551619
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	whelve

ferdinand returns home from his travels yet again–the second his hand crumples to the doorknob, muscles straining to even peel the door open and bow into his home with the woman he loves–it’s like every ounce of strength blooms as sweat at his hairline. he can feel it dripping from his body, retreating down his face. 

he’s so tired. it’s so hard, it’s all so hard. he’s so torn, he’s so _tired._

the second he tugs his eyes up to capture bernadetta’s beauty, he slaps the smile back onto his face.

bernadetta hears the door open as always–he can hear her slam into her bedroom door with a dull thud, see her in his mind’s eye (stained pink like famished roses, because his love for her leaks into even his imaginings), wrestling with her door knob, and then she conquers it. she’s barreling out of her room a second later, sailing through the halls on a surge of strange adrenaline, and she tumbles into his arms. 

she’s small, a bundle of sweet morning sunlight clamped into stone, sculpted into stunning human form. she thrums with warmth against his chest, and for a second, it’s like his exhaustion is scooped from his shoulders–which felt spiderwebbed with canyons of worry a second ago.

but then the stress collapses back onto him, a physical, wracking weight that nearly makes him wheeze.

“how’ve you been?” bernadetta mumbles against his chest, before shinnying up to fasten a kiss to his jawline.

ferdinand’s throat seems to fray, with everything he wants to say:

_i’ve been stressed, i’ve been busy, i’ve been lonely, tired, missing you like i would miss my lungs if they were chewed from my chest and replaced with sacks of slumping flour. i’ve been not good enough. i’ve been trying, and failing, and trying, and growing so annoyed with that expression that compresses hubert’s face whenever i do something wrong. i’ve been living, slipping, drowning._

_i have been dying._

he says: “that is barely a question, my love.” then he swipes a kiss across the halo of her hair. “the true question is, how are you?”

_i cannot dare stress her out. she has suffered enough._

so he spooks the stress that had trickled onto his tongue back into the unlit cavern of his stomach. he ignores the way it shudders, completely neglects the hollowness that bucks and snarls within him. he ignores everything, except for bernadetta. because bernadetta is all that matters, in this second.

because bernadetta is all that really, truly matters, ever, to him.


End file.
